"The Prince desires me to inform you that he has selected pistols at your request, and despite the fact that he has only the use of his left hand, he permits you to use either of yours. There will be one shot each, the firing to be drawn for on the grounds. The time is six, the place one mile out on the north road, in the rear of the Strasburg inn. I trust this is entirely satisfactory to you?"
"It is," I answered.
"Then allow me to bid you good night." He bowed and backed toward the door. He remained a moment with his hand on the knob, gazing into my eyes. I read in his a mixture of amusement and curiosity. "Good night," and he was gone.
Pembroke stared at me in bewilderment. "What the devil—"
"It is a matter of long standing," said I.
"But a duel!" he cried, impatiently. "Hang me if I'll be your second or let you fight. These are not the days of Richelieu. It is pure murder. It is against the law."
"But I cannot draw back honorably," I said. "I cannot."
"I'll notify the police and have them stop it," he said with determination.
"And have us all arrested and laughed at from one end of the continent to the other. My dear cousin, that man shot the dearest friend I had in the world. I am going to try to kill him at the risk of getting killed myself. He has also insulted the noblest woman that ever lived. If I backed down, I should be called a coward; the people who respect me now would close their doors in my face."
"But you have everything to lose, and he has nothing to gain."